


History, Chapter Two:  Today

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-05
Updated: 2007-05-05
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: I wanted to write a story where Agent Mulder and Agent Krycek were lovers, but every episode/interaction between them thereafter stays true to canon (up until a certain point when it will have to take its own course.)





	History, Chapter Two:  Today

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Spoilers: Every episode with Krycek (plus Young at Heart.)  
> 

  
Author's notes: Spoilers: Every episode with Krycek (plus Young at Heart.)  


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History, Chapter Two: Today

## History, Chapter Two: Today

### by Sage Fyre

##### [Story Headers]

  


Chapter Two: Today 

Today is the greatest   
Day I've ever known  
Can't wait for tomorrow  
Tomorrow's much too long. 

~Smashing Pumpkins 

No matter how many files on him they gave me, Mulder refused to be labeled. I've studied reams of dossiers on his childhood, background, relationships, cases... I knew his eyes were flecked like Goldschlager before I even saw them blink up at me. 

I didn't know the first thing about him. 

His cock tastes like heavy cream. 

They told me he was borderline rogue, but then I watched him go home alone every night and order in, flipping TV channels, beer in hand. They told me he was crazy, but he made more sense than they did. They told me he was a misanthropic geek. But he was beautiful. 

Thick, rich cream, not quite sweet, not sugar. Just foamy and luscious and buttery soft thrusting hard inside my mouth. 

They told me he was celibate. 

But I brought him off in my throat. 

It wasn't in my instructions to suck Mulder's cock. Nor to kill Cole, get drunk, go with Mulder to his room. Nothing about that night happened like it was supposed to. But everything happened perfectly. 

I told myself I could handle it: their punishment, (if there was one), a brief entanglement with Mulder, some release for both of us... I could give him what he wanted, some solace, some pleasure, some sex. Someone to share the loneliness with. 

I didn't expect him to taste like that. Like the road not taken. Like junk in the syringe and me sucking at the needle. 

I left him there, went to my room, and watched the sun come up behind the buildings. I took a twenty minute shower, not budging when the water turned to sleet, piercing my skin like a full-body tattoo. 

I was dressed and ready when he knocked on the door. The first thing I saw were his eyes. Like something recently burned, still hot, but inevitably cooling. I made a mistake then. I smiled at him. It was unconscious. It was impulsive. Completely and stupidly dangerous. I saw it change him like wind over wildfire. 

"Ready?" he asked me, his deep breath audible. 

I swallowed, suddenly wanting to cry. I nodded and turned away. 

Two weeks went by after the night in New York. Two weeks in which Mulder called me Alex twice, stood inordinately close, touched me whenever possible, smiled at me occasionally, and thanked me for getting him coffee. 

Two weeks of paper work and easy cases that led nowhere special. I went from daily reports to the Group to weekly. I saw less of Them, more of Mulder. I saw less of myself, more of someone I'd created from ash becoming flesh. I let him touch me. I let him stand close and breathe on my neck. I let myself shiver. I was weak. I was living the lie. I started looking for opportunities to get him alone. Opportunities to self-destruct. 

I got one. 

We were called to assist the VCU. It was gruesome. Five murders in as many days. I'm sure they would have liked to 'keep it in the family' but they didn't have time for anything other than invoking Spooky Mulder. I watched them flay him with split tongues even as they sought his help. I saw the burden of being the bigger man weigh on his body, his mind completely preoccupied with the facts of the case. 

We worked it together, and I fought to keep up. He stopped touching me. He barely looked at me. Like a ghost, his voice channeled his intuition and the man was left to starve, lack, and husk over like a corpse. He lived on whatever food I managed to get him to eat. He wasn't sleeping. All the victims were young girls. Their pictures were a cancer on his soul. 

He had it profiled in a day and a half. We'd tracked him to Oklahoma. He was on the run, headed to Mexico. He'd made the mistake of using a credit card at a motel. That's where Mulder and I stayed when we got there. He got the same room. He spent half an hour just running his fingers over the sparse furnishings; I watched him through the connecting door before he noticed and closed me out. 

There was a storm, in fast from the west. I stood at my window and watched the black take over the sky. The air lit up and the hairs on the backs of my arms stood on end. 

I went to the vending machines, knowing Mulder had not eaten in possibly fourteen hours. I got chips and donuts and 7-Up. The rain pelleted me on the way back, starting fast and violent. The wind whipped the trees. They looked like angry medusas with green snake hair. By the time I got to his door, I was dripping. 

I knocked hard to be heard over the gale. The door opened fast and the barrel of a gun thrust through the dark gap at me. In the second it took me to understand I'd been found out, Mulder lowered the gun with a heavy sigh and the door opened wider. I frowned, heart still racing, and pushed gingerly into his room. 

He sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over. He still had the gun clutched in his hand. 

"You all right?" I ventured. It was a silly question but one of those things you say when nothing else works, when blunt truth could light like a powder keg and explode into a million stars in your face. 

I got no response. He didn't even look up. 

"Mulder?" 

Lightning crackled outside. The window panes shook with thunder a second later. He still had the gun. Despite my own fear, despite his evident inner torment, I felt myself getting hard, wanting him. 

I walked over cautiously, licking rainwater off my top lip. His fingers traced the gun's hard contours, oiling his fingerprints onto its flesh. I swallowed. 

"We're close," I told him. "We'll have him tomorrow." 

Under the barrel, soft like comfort. 

"We have him on the run. He won't..." I stopped. 

He was suddenly looking up at me, his eyes imploring. "Kill any more?" he asked me. He knew the answer, and I knew that it didn't matter. That it wasn't the five girls Mulder mourned, but the one he might never find. 

I frowned at his open face. Open for the first time in days. And only for me. Only here. I held out my hand for his gun. He looked at it. "Unless you wanna kill me," I said. A drop of rain fell from my fingers onto his leg. 

He closed his eyes and swallowed. The metal fell flat into my palm. Thunder and lightning simultaneous. Blue light and bone-rattling sound. I set the weapon aside. 

"You should sleep," I told him. 

He laughed softly, bitterly, but looked up at me with pleading eyes and a sweet curve to his lush mouth. I hesitated for a moment but then slid to my knees in front of him. I don't think he gasped until I pushed his legs apart with wet hands and crawled between. 

Fierce light illuminated my fingers working his fly open. I felt the rolling thunder in my balls. My shirt stuck to my chest. He spread his thighs further, inviting me deeper. I looked up at him. He was still watching me. I pulled his cock out through his underwear like I'd done before. It was big and soft and it twitched in my palm, alive. 

Lightning crashed outside, almost masking his moan. I lifted his flaccid cock to my mouth, bending down. I sucked it in and it began to get hard in my mouth. I pulled it into me, straight as an arrow, red as blood, my mouth the ripe wound. 

Mulder stayed upright. I felt his nearness, his body bowed over me, almost protective while I took care of his need. I stroked his rigid cock with my tongue. The rain started hitting the window hard. I slid my hands up Mulder's thighs and he slid a hand into my hair. I think he got me to purr, my mouth wrapped tight around his thick shaft. 

God, I wanted to suck the pain out of him. I wanted to lick his wounds, keep him lodged in my throat for hours, exhaust him inside of me, dash his angst to dust. 

I wanted to taste that cream, that fat, firm cock, and fill myself up with something I could already feel disappearing. 

I squeezed his thighs and took him deep. It felt like the walls would tear and crumble around us. The storm howled and Mulder gripped my hair while I fucked my throat open with the blunt head of his cock. 

He started to moan. His hand dropped from my head to my back and pulled at my shirt desperately. He gripped it, nails scratching through the cotton before returning to my head, stroking once and again and then making a fist in my hair and groaning as he started to come. 

I shut my eyes tight and suckled hard. I felt the pinprick of tears. Through the crack of thunder, I heard Mulder struggling not to say my name. 

I slid his wet, hard cock slowly in and out of my mouth, gentling the last of his cum out and letting it lubricate the way for my lips. He untangled his fingers from my hair. I sat back on my heels, pulling off finally, regretfully. I wanted to force him hard again, wrench more cream from the tired flesh. I missed him already. 

I wiped my mouth and stood as Mulder tucked himself back inside his pants. 

The storm raged on without us. Somehow it felt like Mulder's release should have culminated with its end. Or rather that without his need to stoke it, the wind and rain and thunder should die. But the maelstrom continued, filling the silence we created. 

Mulder ran a hand through his hair. Fear once again tightened my lungs. "You should sleep," I said once more. I felt like a coward. But then he looked up at me, and I blinked at him, his eyes so full of me. My expression softened, turning a shade of tender I don't think I'd ever experienced up to that point. 

He looked down, finding my trapped erect cock with his gaze. He looked like he was about to reach for me. I took a step back and he peered back up at my face. 

I backed up, darting my eyes away in a flash of lightning. I turned to the door and opened it, letting the rain lash inside as I turned back to tell him good-night before closing the door behind me. 

........ 

The case was over, the perp caught because of Mulder, the next day, and two days after we got home, I got the call. I barely heard his voice on the other end of the line. I got the essentials. Barry. Hostages. Key to elimination of the threat. 

"What about my proposals?" I asked. My stomach sank, knowing the futility of trying that angle again. 

They were going to take her, and I was going to help. 

"Krycek, what's up?" 

Wet, lean, unknowing. 

"There's a situation going down. They want you out there right away." I couldn't believe how calm I sounded, how calm I was, with him there shining possible, nearly naked, reminding me of his cock in my mouth, his groans, his body shaking, because of me. And Scully, a pawn for her liability, lined up with destiny, waiting for a future already manufactured for her. Because of me. 

"What kind of situation?" 

Turned away, trusting, dripping, sex itself, vulnerable. I inhaled and saw a knife drawn down his spine, the thin red wake just a prelude before I'd have to plung it in deep and twist. What kind of situation? The kind where I fuck you, Mulder. Fuck you good. The kind where I steal your breath away and never give it back. 

"Hostage negotiation," I said. Give them your soul and they'll let you live. Simple. 

"And they want me?" 

Want you. "Yeah." Want you. 

"What for?" 

He picked up a towel and scrubbed it over his head. I faltered, blinking. And then I told him the first of many half-truths that when added to the others would amount to a landfill of lies. 

......... 

I was sweating. I watched the smoke waft over Mulder's head and realized no one was going to answer but me. I swallowed and spoke the words that were once again so close to the truth. I felt his eyes on me the whole time, cold and measuring. 

Finally, Mulder took over. He looked terrible. He looked saveable, yet every second left unsaved I damned him. She got closer to hell. I got closer to relenting, even with his Morley burning off the moments against the far wall. 

"I'd like to brief them myself..." Mulder said. 

"Go home, Agent Mulder. You've been up all night. Get some sleep," Skinner replied. 

I sat there as Mulder stood. One word coursed through my body. My ears rang. Judas. Judas. I looked at the man smoking on the other side of the room behind Mulder's tense back, saw my thirty pieces of silver shining in his eyes. 

"Sir, I know Duane Barry. I've been in his head," Mulder pleaded. "I know how he thinks." 

_You don't know the first thing about me._ Judas. The man across the room exhaled. I swallowed. Heavy cream dripping from my lips... 

"You're too close to this case," I heard Skinner say. Judas hung himself. Why was I the one feeling nailed down? "If we can use you, we will." 

Use you. We will. 

"Sir," Mulder tried once more. Slide in, slide out. His lust running over my lips as he thrust... 

"That's an order, Agent Mulder." 

Skinner looked at me and I blinked. I heard my real boss blow smoke out through his pursed, wrinkled lips, dried out with nicotine and denial. Watching this. Watching me like I, too, was a pawn. 

"Make sure he gets home safely." 

Judas stood, leaving me there, dull with murdered hope. 

To be continued...

  
 

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Series Name:   **History**  
Title:   **History, Chapter Two: Today**   
Author:  Sage Fyre   [email/website]   
Details:   **Series**  |  **NC-17**  |  **12k**  |  **05/05/07**   
Pairings:  Mulder/Krycek   
Category:  Drama   
Summary:  I wanted to write a story where Agent Mulder and Agent Krycek were lovers, but every episode/interaction between them thereafter stays true to canon (up until a certain point when it will have to take its own course.)   
Notes:  Spoilers: Every episode with Krycek (plus Young at Heart.)   
  
  
  
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